Almost Home
by azure feathers
Summary: RE4. Different take on the farmhouse scene. M for lots of blood, though it isn't really graphic...


Almost Home

**A/N: I'm sorry. This doesn't even mean anything. I just felt like writing something. u_u I haven't played Resident Evil 4 in a while, so forgive me if a bunch of things in this scene are off; I'm sure they will be.**  
**I was just attempting to retell the story a bit, haha. Hope it's at least mildly entertaining.**  
**Also, 20th story, yeah! :D**

...

Ashley's hand is clammy. Not like I expected anything else, considering the situation, but she's got my fingers in a vice grip and it's starting to bug me.

It's almost like the sweat evaporates when we catch sight of the farmhouse; it's just a hop, a skip, and a scary, unstable-looking rickety bridge away from our current position outside the merchant's tent. The formidableness of the bridge is forgotten about with the prospect of shelter, and suddenly Ashley's mood has improved tenfold.

"Leon, look!" She exclaims. I decide that she is being considerate and just making sure my eyes still work. Hell, after what I've been through the past few days, I should be checking up on my senses too.

"Looks like we'll get a bit of rest tonight," I reply, but my stomach churns with doubt. The farmhouse probably isn't empty, and if it is it won't be for long... But any time we can get out of the miserable climate of this place is valuable, so I proceed across the bridge with resolve.

_Crack._

Oh, no. I know what that is. The incoherent mutters that soon follow confirm it: the lovely denizens of wherever-the-hell-I-am are paying us a visit. A look over my shoulder reveals a dozen, two, three, of those monsters filtering out of the gate we'd come through a few minutes ago. When I turn back ahead, I see a similar scene beyond the farmhouse. Well, shit.

"Ashley, _go!_" I yell, pushing her toward the farmhouse. She emits a little yelp and takes off like a jackrabbit. I turn back and unleash a few shotgun rounds on the Ganados, pulling out my pistol and taking out a few of the bastards at the front too. The ones I kill are quickly replaced, and I realize that this mob seriously means business. I sprint after Ashley for the farmhouse before I become Plaga meat.

Unfortunately, the farmhouse is just as maggoty and worm-eaten on the inside as it was out. It won't provide much protection from the impending doom that's waiting outside, but it's something. That's what I tell myself to keep from kicking things.

"Hey, Leon!" Ashely calls from the second floor. I take the stairs two at a time and see her staring out the window beside none other than Luis Sera himself.

"Luis?"

He turns. "Oh, Leon. How nice to see you here. I guess you brought a few friends for the party?"

"Yeah, a few. Hope you don't mind."

"Oh, no, of course not. I made dinner for everybody."

A bang on the front door signals the end of our "joke". Luis grimaces, and I turn to Ashley.

"Ashley, we've got to hide you. What about... What about that wardrobe over there?"

I open it up. It smells like mothballs and old people, but Ashley fits inside like it was hand-made specifically for her to hide in whilst being attacked by a group of at least a hundred angry villagers.

"Let's get this show on the road. Luis, got any ammo?"

"Plenty. I've been holing up in here for a couple days. Got some healing stuff, too, if you need it."

"You're the best."

"I know."

We run downstairs just in time for the first villager to break through a window. I shoot off his head easily, but this is not the bad part. The bad part is that there are no firm walls to station ourselves at, and there is no way to guarantee we won't get pulled out a window by a woman with a cleaver.

There's not much time to think about how bad the situation is, though, because the mob's arrived in full force. Bullet after bullet splatters guts over the scenery, but the crowd isn't thinning. When I use my third box of shotgun rounds, that uneasy feeling creeps up in my stomach again.

"Leon! You got butterfly bullets?"

"Yeah, but just a few." I toss him a box and shoot the middle-aged man that was going to hack into his shoulder with a shovel. Luis smiles appreciatively.

Fifteen minutes is a long time when your adrenaline is pumping and you're shooting down people- well, former people –left and right, and after those minutes I'm beat. I can tell Luis is too, but he keeps shooting vigilantly and so do I. I'm down to my last box of shotgun rounds and I didn't bring any handy-dandy rocket launchers, so I pull out a grenade and throw it just out the window farthest from me. Boom! Seven down, three billion to go.

"AGH!" Luis' yelp is sharp, and I look to see a woman carving a pretty design into his shoulder with an axe. When I shoot her, flecks of blood spatter all over Luis' face. He frowns good-naturedly, but his eyes are clouded with pain. I toss him a can of first-aid spray, but it doesn't bring as much relief as I was hoping it would. He's panting and slumped a little, and that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach grows until it's the size of a soccer ball.

I shoot a few more Ganados on my side and slide over the table to his, propping him against the wall with a shoulder and shooting to the left and the right, where the villagers have broken in the doors. Luis' breathing is even more painful up close; I barely manage to keep from cringing each time he exhales.

"How you holding up, Sera?"

He glances at me wearily. He doesn't need to put it into words. I'm losing control of the situation, and I can feel everything slipping through my fingers. Luis is bleeding all over me now, and a crazed old man manages to nick him in the leg. The pressure of his weight on my shoulder grows and I feel something press into my palm.

"Ammo," He says, and places several more boxes into my hand, my vest, wherever he can fit them. "Herbs."

I swallow hard. My throat is dry.

"Grenades."

"Luis, what are you-"

"You know goddamn well what I'm doing."

"Come on, Luis. They're just a few scratches. After this is over, I can patch you up. Got plenty of supplies upstairs." I'm not used to my voice sounding so needy, but there it is. Proof of defeat. Luis doesn't even deem my pleas worth responding to.

He picks himself up off the wall, releasing the weight from my shoulder, and puts his weight on his leg with a groan. Blood spurts on the floor, and I'd look away if I wasn't so busy gunning down more visitors. Luis picks up an AK and wields it like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

"Luis..."

He looks back at me for a moment, and to my relief I can't see any regret lingering in his eyes. Then he walks into the mob and starts shooting.

What is this? I have to think for a second, and I get it: he's a decoy. I take inventory of my grenades and ammo and see the full extent of what he's doing. He's giving Ashley and I a chance to escape.

It doesn't work like he'd planned, though, and the shooting stops all too soon. "Luis!" I cry, my voice sounding strangled. No response. Only hundreds of bloodthirsty eyes staring my way, locking on to one last target.

Sure, I can shoot- I can shoot into infinity with the ammo I've got. But that isn't good enough. I will get tired before the ammo runs out. My knees will buckle in exhaustion before all my adversaries are gone.

I'll be one last decoy, one more chance for Ashely to survive. It doesn't make sense; the odds are a million-to-one of her surviving by herself, but they were only a million-to-two when I was with her. If I don't do this now, she will not have a chance, period.

I vault over the window while the Ganados are still distracted.

"Hey! Over here!" I call when I've gotten far enough, attracting the attention of several dozen villagers. When they're far enough away from the farmhouse, I throw a grenade. One dozen. I throw another. Two. With each grenade they get closer, and with each grenade I make Ashley's chance of getting out of there a little bigger.

I'm down to my last two, and I save these while I wait for the bastard Ganados to get in closer. I exhaust my butterfly bullets- not like I'd need them for anything else –my shotgun, and my pistol; it's spectacular timing because they're almost upon me.

I drop the guns so my hands are free and pull the ring out of one of the grenades, backing slowly toward the shed I'd seen earlier. In it is a tank of gasoline, some supply crates, and a white can that looks promising, which I can use to my advantage.

When I'm in the doorframe of the shed I wait, holding off a few quick villagers with my AK. The mob arrives soon after.

I release the grip on the first grenade and let it fly into the farthest parts of the mob, then pull the ring out of my last one. As my grip on the grenade loosens, I roll my eyes skyward. I pray to whatever the hell has time to listen to me to keep Ashley safe and to find her a way out of the living hell we've stumbled into. There's a loud popping noise, and I think I feel an axe on my arm, but everything's too bright and I can't see properly. Something behind me explodes and my face smashes into the dirt.

In the farmhouse, all is silent except the crescendo of dozens of grenades exploding in the heat and the crackle of a huge wildfire, its long arms licking their way across the sky.

...


End file.
